


It was Supposed to be Mine

by Just_A_Lizard



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Wilbur Soot, Mental Breakdown, November 16th stream, Older sibling breakdown go brrrt, POV Wilbur Soot, Phil's doing his best, Tired Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot-centric, Yes this is a vent what of it, older sibling vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28177950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_A_Lizard/pseuds/Just_A_Lizard
Summary: L’Manberg had died a long time ago, it had died the minute he and Tommy lost the election. This was just him finishing the job. L’Manberg was his country, it was only fitting that Wilbur should be the one to make the final choice.At least, it was supposed to be his fucking choice.(A.k.a. a quick look at why Wilbur was so obsessed with following through on his plan to destroy L'Manberg)
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48





	It was Supposed to be Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Wilbur has a breakdown at his button and Phil is also there

Fireworks exploded in the distance as Philza stepped into Wilbur’s button room. “In L’Manberg, huh.” Wilbur turned and was instantly pinned by his father’s disappointed gaze, feeling exactly the same as when he and Techno had been caught sneaking a horse out of the stable when they were younger. 

“W-well, I mean, it, it is _technically_ L’man . . berg. . . just. . .” He was rambling, trying to cover up the fact that he had been _lying_ , to his _father,_ _lying like the horrible fucking person he was–_ Wilbur sighed, giving in as he had always done.

“I will admit–” He walked over towards the button, considering how he was going to “explain” himself. “Do you know what this button is, Phil?” 

A simple “I do,” with an accompanying head tilt was all of the response he got.  _ Figures. New angle then. _

“Are you . . . familiar? With, with the song written on the walls?” He gestured at the lyrics surrounding the two. “I wrote it there.” Wilbur wrote it, wrote the original and wrote the mad scribblings that covered the walls of his button room, marking it in a way no one else could,  _ making it his and his alone _ – “See, Phil, I made a point in the song, ‘There  _ was _ a special place,” he said, smiling as he turned back to face his button. “I put emphasis on the  _ was _ , because it isn’t there anymore.”

“It is. You’ve just won it back.” Wilbur almost laughed at that.  _ What does he know, he’s been here for what, 2 minutes? Out of  _ **_months_ ** _ of pain and sacrifice? _ L’Manberg had died a long time ago, it had died the minute he and Tommy lost the election. This was just him finishing the job. L’Manberg was  _ his _ country, it was only fitting that Wilbur should be the one to make the final choice. At least, it was  _ supposed _ to be his fucking choice.

“Phil, I’m always  _ SO  _ close to pressing this button! The one  _ fucking _ thing I’ve wanted for the past  _ month _ , and it keeps getting  _ taken _ from me, just like  _ EVERYTHING ELSE  _ I’ve ever fucking wanted for myself!!” Wilbur could hear his breath hitching, attempting to release all of those pesky tears he thought he had moved away from. He slammed a fist against the wall, narrowly avoiding the button “ _ MY  _ L’Manberg, Phil, it was supposed to be  _ MY  _ L’Manberg!” His legs gave out from underneath him, knees hitting the cobblestone of the button room. The pain barely registered compared to the hollow sensation building in his chest.

“It was supposed to be  _ mine _ ,” he sobbed, finally giving in to the tears that had been building for weeks, months, maybe even years. 

Wilbur gets lost in the tides of emotion, emotion he had tried so  _ hard _ to push down, emotion he was never supposed to have. “I just wanted to have  _ something _ ,” he whispered.

Being the leader meant he had to be strong, calm, and resilient in the face of opposition. Being the leader was a one-way ticket to getting the things you wanted, if not for yourself than for everyone else. 

“When did it stop being mine?” 

_ Then why was he here, breaking down before his father, crying over the loss of the one thing he had to his name? _

He was warm, so warm, warmer than he should have been. Wilbur had been cold for so long, he had almost forgotten what  _ warm _ felt like, so why was he warm now? The warmth was solid, more solid than anything he had felt in months, and it was instinct that told him to lean into it, to take hold of the warmth and  _ keep _ it, safe and personal and  _ his _ , to the point where no one else could ever take it away from him. 

Maybe it would even replace his button.

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Haha this Wilbur guy is cool  
> Wilbur: *is an older sibling who always gets overshadowed until he fucks up*  
> Me: I'm in danger
> 
> Yes I was venting, I just like the idea of Wilbur being influenced by the fact that he isn't even seen as the owner of his own country anymore
> 
> This has been sitting in my google docs for weeks, please, I know I'm late-  
> (I love seeing all of the kudos and comments, it's mindboggling that people like my stuff, love you guys :)))


End file.
